


Clothed Getting Off

by EnsorcelledReader



Series: DirkJake NSFW OTP Challenge [11]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Frenzied Sex, Frottage, M/M, Self Loathing, drugging?, return of plant sap and pollen, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8361538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnsorcelledReader/pseuds/EnsorcelledReader
Summary: My newest installment of the NSFW DirkJake OTP challenge.This is a sequel I wrote for the amazing fic "Little Shop of Horrorterrors" I did not write the original story, I just really enjoyed it and wanted a sequel. So I wrote a small one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of the prompts in which the prompt is actually only a small portion of the fic. Oh well.
> 
> This is supposed to take place directly after “Little Shop of Horrorterrors” with the small addendum of Jake has a gas mask when he went to check on the plant. Something not explained in the fic is that while the plant was dying, the bulb swelled with pollen (preparing to replant itself) and Jake poked it with the sword, covering himself in it.

You had managed to get some sleep while Jake was gone, your body slowly coming around to the idea of moving again. You make a point to get up slowly and take your time down the stairs to the kitchen. Jake left coffee, he really is one of the most considerate people you know. In an effort to thank him, for saving you, for tolerating you, for fucking you. You scrounge up enough to make banana pancakes, a nice snack when he gets home. You don’t bother putting on an apron, or clothes for that matter. Mixing the batter and taking no notice of the mixture splashing onto your abdomen.

The door clicks shut, Jake must be home. “In the kitchen!” You call, waiting for him to make his way to you. The smell of him hits you before he comes around the corner. A familiar smell, an erotic smell. Jake waves hello, the gas mask covering his face, but you can still see the crinkle in his eyes. He lifts up trash bag, a familiar sap dripping down the side, but you’re not looking at that. You’re looking at him, in that fitted waistcoat that shows off his form, dusted with a red powder, the pollen. Your eyes drift further down to his muscular legs, covered in dirt and right now you would gladly lick it off if he let you suck his dick too. Your dick is already hard and straining against the fabric of your boxers. He seems concerned at your lack of response, taking off his mask like the loveable short-sighted goof that he is, and takes a huge breath of the cloud of pollen he created. His eyes widen and you can see the realization hit him, the mixture of surprise and arousal that leaves a tightly wound string between you. Jake is the one to snap it.

The batter tumbles to the ground splashing both of you as he pushes you up against the counter, rutting against you and moaning into your mouth as he forces his tongue inside. His dominance is unlike anything you’ve experienced from him before, and you like it. His hands are all over and you are scrambling to keep you balance. As you kiss, the pollen starts to brush onto you as well, creating a series of smaller puffs of contaminated air that you both breath in. He bites your lip and pulls it out, letting it smack against your teeth when he lets go. He’s smirking and you are so lost in your own need that you can’t think straight. A look crosses his face, like he’s midway on a five-hundred-mile journey and realizes he left the oven on. “Upstairs.” You rush as fast as your protesting limbs will carry you, you can hear him behind with a loud thumping sound. At one point he catches up and graces your hole with his clearly wet sticky fingers, making you stumble up the last few steps, nearly losing your balance altogether. You don’t get a moment for breath because he’s pushing you onto the bed, straddling your hips and gyrating against your dick. “Fuck Ja-JAKE!” Your head is thrown back, your hands gripping his thighs, you can’t catch your breath and the veins beneath your skin burn electric fire. You try to force control back over your body, but after yesterday and this morning, your impulse control is at an all-time low. You manage to un-tilt your head and open your eyes to see him watching you, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen. Your vanity ignites. Your dick jumps. There’s drool running down the side of your chin. Both of you come before you can actually remove any clothing. You two are far from finished.

The red adrenaline coursing through your body re-erects your dick after only moments, you have a suspicion that it has more to do with Jake and your general aching need for him; the pollen is just there to speed things along. At least, that’s how you feel before Jake dips his hand into that trash bag, bringing it up completely covered in oozing sap, the look in his eyes, mischievous and tantalizingly suggestive. He drags the bag to the edge of the bed, covering your thighs in the stuff, you can’t really bring yourself to complain, it’s tingling and warm and you can feel yourself going under a deeper haze. You’re aware of the little whining noises that escape you when he massages your hipbones with the viscous fluid. Your legs twitch, but you can’t actually move them anymore, it doesn’t bother you like it did yesterday, if anything, it fuels the growing pressure in your lower abdomen. He avoids your dick and trails his fingers up your chest, flicking your nipples at the first opportunity. You arch hard and call his name, and you swear he purrs. You feel the hot moist breath on your neck as he whispers “That’s right Dirk, let go. Come on. I want to see you that way again, please.” He pets your hair with his clean hand and everything is delightfully blurry. He’s still whispering nonsense to you and you want to make noise for him.

“I love you.” The look on his face seems shocked, like you pierced through that spell of lust and reached his core. He smiles at you and you melt into the fire. “Touch me, please.”

His hand is clumsier now, you expect the sap is having its own effects on him. He can’t move it quite how he wants anymore. He still manages to wipe some on you, where you wanted it most and its like a new connection in the circuitry, making you shine. You yell so loud that you doubt you’ll be able to speak for a week. And then Jake leaves you and you whine, and beg him to stay. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Jake. Jake, I need you. Touch me. Touch me again. I need it, Jake!” You’re sobbing and it isn’t dignified in the slightest, but you don’t have a fuck to give at this point.

You watch as he coats a dildo with the plant gel, for a brief moment you wonder how long he’s had it. And then he’s sticking it in you, covered in that sinful lube. He finds your prostate after a couple of tries and you come so intensely hard that the fragment of rationality left in your brain, worries that you may have broke something. It begins vibrating inside you and you open your eyes in surprise, to see him coming into his own hand. Another whine escapes. “No,” Your mouth says without your permission, you sound like a petulant child. “In me,” it’s more of a plea than a command; he’s watching you before digging in the bedside drawer for a condom.

“I was planning to, love. Wanted to make sure you felt good first.” He’s soon laying on you, grinding his dick against the vibrator, making you moan again. “You’re gorgeous. Been think about this for so long.” He slips the toy out of you and slowly sinks himself inside. You keen, tears rolling down your cheeks from overstimulation. “I missed being inside you.” He’s moving his hips in that magical way he does and soon you’re panting against the sheets.

“I missed you too. I missed all of you. I love you. I love you. God, I love you.” Your mouth is no longer in your control and this would be humiliating if you stopped for five seconds to think about it.

“I missed you too. I love you too. MMMMMmmmm- hah- you feel so good.” Jake doesn’t seem to be in much control either.

Your pride rises to new heights with his words and you scream because everything is overwhelmingly good. You come onto your own stomach, and you feel Jake’s hot release as he comes inside you. He pulls out and ties off the condom, snuggling next to you after he throws it into the trash. Part of you wants to ask if you can taste his cum before he ties it off, but given the new, uneven ground that you two are on with this relationship, the fear of grossing him out is the only thing that seems to override the pollen. You both know it won’t be long before you need another round, but the way he rubs you is comforting. And while the way he watches as you catch your breath prickles the guard walls that have risen up after orgasm, you let him look without complaint. If he can accept someone as fucked up as you, he deserves to look.

“Shh.” He says and you give him a questioning look. “I can hear that self-loathing Strider. You’re not allowed to think thoughts like that. Not with me here.” Something about Jake’s words pique the interest of your dick and you pray he doesn’t notice…he does. He takes your dick into his mouth, hotter than the flames still running under your skin. After a couple of bobs he rises and meets your lidded clouding gaze. “What are you thinking, Dirk?” His voice is husky and deep as it tickles your ears.

“I love you.” Jake smiles at the pretty lie of your internal life. You hope that someday your brain will behave; that you won’t have to hide the thoughts of how much you don’t deserve him. Of how he’s too good to be touched by a living corpse with a decaying soul. You want to be whole for him. You want to be perfect for him. You are sobbing openly as he sucks the only thing you can give him right now. It’s cathartic.

After several more rounds and about seven condoms, you are covered in his cum and the plant sap. He carries you back to the shower and lovingly cleans you, fucking you one more time under the hot water, just like yesterday, only this time, the shame doesn’t eat at you the same way. When you get up the next morning, even sorer than the day before, you force yourself to stand in front of the mirror and look at yourself. You’re not one for positive affirmations, they don’t work, not for you. You could never believe the nice things that you are supposed to say. Instead, you look at yourself and make a promise. “I will become someone worthy of Jake.” Your voice cracks and you look away. Too much, you don’t believe it. You take a deep breath and look at yourself again, tired and worn. “Today, I will do something to make Jake smile.” You whisper it, like you don’t deserve to say his name, but you get it out. And that’s a start.


End file.
